Film Deaf

This morning I had the unusual experience of engaging in a discussion about a film I actually had more than a tiny amount of knowledge about. (Sunshine - a DVD I bought almost entirely for its Dr Brian Cox science commentary.) It's strange. I like to think of myself as a vaguely culturally aware person - I definitely keep up with contemporary music, and try to keep at least aware of current trends and movements in visual arts and literature. But film?

I have a terrible confession to make. I am film deaf.

It's not that I don't enjoy films. I certainly do enjoy watching and even discussing it with whatever person who has made me watch it. It's more that I don't have much discernment when it comes to films. I don't really know enough about the artform to discuss genres or really assess them on a quality level beyond "I was engaged by that" or "this is boring, I'm going to read a book."

I took a course in basic film at art school, as it was a core requirement, but I can't say I learned anything. (Apart from reaffirming my teenage goth love of German Expressionism.) I have been taught about auteur theory and "Mise en scène" (whatever that is) but the whole concept of film as craft just slides off my brain. It's not like music, where I can be aware of the production techniques used to generate a sound, and still be caught up in the emotion of the piece. Movies are just something that wash over me without my ever really knowing how it was done.

And I certainly don't really know enough about films to actively seek them out. Despite living practically next door to a decent cinema, I think I've been there once in the past two years. I don't have a video club membership and it's very rare that I'll buy DVD unless I've seen the film before - these days, since I don't have a telly, that's because someone has shown it to me.

I just didn't grow up in a cinema-going family. Hell, we didn't even have a colour television until I was in my teens. Many of my childhood memories of familial television watching involved gathering around a tiny 70s B&W set the size of a toaster to watch Dr Who on Saturday nights, and that was about it. My Dad would occasionally take us to sci fi blockbusters - we saw Star Wars on our first visit to the States, and watched The Black Hole in an empty movie theatre on our first American Thanksgiving - but I was aware that my mother had never been *allowed* to watch films as a child. Her grandmother disapproved of films and would especially not allow her to watch anything by Disney, for fear of a pernicious Americanising influence.

So I suppose it's not accident that film-watching is something I associate with boyfriends - and why someone who is almost totally film deaf has almost exclusively had relationships with serious film buffs.

It's one of the few things I actually miss about having a boyfriend - having someone to actually make me watch films, and pick good ones to put in front of me. I mean, in most of the relationships I watch friends have, it's the men's job to provide the women with mixtapes. In most of my relationships, it's been the reverse - I'm such an insufferable music snob I'm far more likely to do the music selection. Yet choosing films is one of those jobs I'm happy, or even grateful, to rely on a boyfriend for.

Perhaps that's it, though. In my experience, most men like to be the experts in the house. They seem to actually find it vaguely diminishing if a woman knows more about something than they do. And trust me, I'm simply not the kind of person to keep it to myself if I have any kind of expertise or opinions on a subject. On film, however, I'm perfectly willing to accept and concede to someone else's greater knowledge. In fact, use that knowledge to heighten mine own enjoyment.